


Dragontouched

by thesockmonster



Series: Dragontouched [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fantasy, M/M, mild violence, possibly disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesockmonster/pseuds/thesockmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of magic and danger, Jongin is born as one half of a whole with his fate already written out for him. Now if only fate will cooperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragontouched

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by adele and posted ages ago on my lj.

In the valley between two mountains, tucked neatly inside a protective barrier of thick trees, is a village. It’s not a large village, but it’s conveniently located as a midway point along the main road that winds through the mountain pass and to the larger villages on the other side. Lots of different people stop off to rest at the inn, have their fill of mead and home cooked stew at the tavern, and squabble with the shop traders as they replenish their supplies and take home a new trinket or two.

There’s a boy who lives in this village, a boy who keeps to the shadows while stealing peeks at the strange, exciting people who stop by and leave before they can make a lasting impression. He’s the son of a trader and he’s a practiced hunter, helping to bring fresh game to the bartering table while staying out of sight. Not many people dare venture outside the borders and into the forest; there are too many wild dangers that keep them at bay.

But not him. Not Jongin.

Jongin grew up on the outskirts of the village, climbing the trees closest to his house and teetering on the highest branches just to get a glimpse of the horizon. He’d been adventurous, reckless, but it came hand-in-hand with the slashing claw marks down the side of his neck that he’d been born with.

Dragontouched is what people call him, what they call the children born with the identifying brand tying them to ancient magicks. People like Jongin are bold, brazen and destined to be the strongest of guardians. No one in Jongin’s village had ever been born with the marks until him, and he’d grown up with the expectations of everyone on his shoulders.

And he’d let them all down.

A Dragontouched is nothing without a dragon at their side, the dragon that’s meant for them at birth and is said to stay by their side until the end. Jongin’s seen other Dragontouched pass through, marveling at the beasts who quickly shrink down to their human form when entering the village. He’s heard tales of adventure and wonder and battle to keep the Others away. The Others are a constant threat, always lurking in the shadows and waiting to strike. There are Others who live in the forest around his own village, but only a few and they keep to themselves for the most part. For now.

Jongin is well past the age when a human is united with their guardian dragon and he’s never felt the presence of his dragon, never felt the pull of the bond that ties them together. When he’d been only sixteen, he’d set out with a fellow Dragontouched - a congenial boy by the name of Yixing with a soft air about him ... until threatened. Together with Yixing’s sharp-tongued dragon, Jongdae, they’d traveled through the main cities of the kingdom, even venturing beyond the borders in the hopes that Jongin would find his own dragon.

Jongin had seen wonders - caravans of nomadic traders, gem mines that cast rainbows against his skin in the midday sun, the plight of those plagued with the Others at their doorstep. Jongin experienced the adulation that welcomes Dragontouched _and_ the unsettling watchful eyes that follow their footsteps because people will always fear what they do not understand.

But not once did he feel his dragon. Yixing and Jongdae had both been apologetic when they dropped him back off at his home, their heads hung low and smiles sad. Jongin had told them it was alright, that maybe it just wasn’t his time and bid them farewell with a feigned happiness that drained from his limbs the moment they were out of sight.

It’s nearly been a decade since then and Jongin lives by himself, keeping his presence to a minimum because the stares of the people in the village only coax his guilt to the surface. He figures there must be something wrong with him; it’s the only explanation he has for his inability to feel that bond hidden inside him.

Jongin hasn't given up - not really - but sometimes he wonders if it's just better if he stops trying to find something that just isn't there. He’s torn between this destiny that’s supposed to guide him and the emptiness that’s taken hold in his heart, his fate gouging out a space for a companion who isn’t coming. He’d save himself a lot of pain if he simply moved to a new village and settled down, maybe find a pretty girl and get married, have kids and hope that none of them are subjected to his fate. Granted it's not as adventurous a future as Jongin had been preparing for, but at least it _is_ a future.

Or maybe he'll trek into the woods one day, never to return. Now that would be a grand statement.

With his bow and quiver strapped to his back, one knife in his belt and another hidden in his shoe, Jongin silently treads further into the trees, his every instinct on high alert. The Others may not appear before him, but they've left traces of rotting plant-life and lifeless animals in their wake. Jongin uses the tip of his knife to inspect one of the many dead foxes littering the trail that leads deeper into the forest. There's nothing to give away what killed it save for the opaque purple that coats its open eyes. These animals had their life energy drained, probably all at once Jongin deducts from the way they're clustered. They'd most likely been moving as a group and didn't have time to react.

It's going to be difficult to find live animals to hunt if they've all been scared away. He can only hope the game further in hasn't gone into hiding. Jongin's hunting excursions usually take a few days - sometimes up to a week if he's unlucky - and he's well prepared with enough food and water rations to get by. But it's not starving to death that he's worried about.

Jongin takes care to skirt the graveyard of foxes, making a mental note to bury them on his way back. They can wait; not even scavengers will touch something Other killed and Jongin doesn’t have the time to spare.

The rest of the forest is silent around him - a bad omen - and he keeps low, his steps calculated in case the Other is still around. Jongin stays hunched, his movements slow until he hears the wildlife beginning to come out of hiding. The birds chirp and the rustling of smaller creatures begin a rehearsed duet for Jongin as he treads deeper into the dark. The thick treetops block the rays of the sun, only the occasional slant of light filtering to the forest floor. Jongin doesn't stop walking until even that light is gone and he can hear the crickets and their symphony take over the night. He climbs a wide tree, settling his weight on one of the sturdier branches to rest until morning.

It takes two more days for Jongin to come across a herd of deer - finally something worth using one of his precious few arrows on. His breathing is low and even, his grip steady and aim perfect as he finally releases the tension in his arm and lets his arrow fly. It lodges deep in the chest of a twelve point buck and the rest of the herd startles, darting into the safety of the thicket of trees behind them.

With his prize tied onto a sled fashioned of branches and leaves, Jongin begins his trek back home. He stops off at a small stream he'd crossed along the way to wash the blood from his hands and knife. The stubble on his chin is itchy and he rinses the dirt and sweat from his face as best he can without wetting his clothing. He scratches absently at the mark on his neck, rubbing at it more when it prickles.

Jongin pays it no mind. It's not the first time the lines that rake down his neck have heated against his skin and it's not likely to be the last. This time, however, the pain is more than a nuisance. It makes it difficult for him to sleep and causes enough of a distraction that Jongin nearly tramples into a cluster of brambles and it puts him in a foul mood.

The skin of his neck is raw by the time he makes it to the edge of the forest. Jongin yearns for a long soak in a hot bath, for a cooked meal and the comforts of his bed. It hastens his steps, the weight of his prize negligible compared to what's waiting for him at home. His mother will fuss over him until his father shoos her away to clean the buck. And then his father will fuss over him when his mother is out of earshot.

There's a break in the trees ahead, a well-used trail that leads straight to Jongin's home. He makes it to the edge of the forest, stepping over into trimmed grass and bright sunlight that has him squinting as his eyes water.

A pulsing burn sears down the marks on Jongin's neck and for a moment, he can't breathe. The pain steals the air from his lungs and he drops to his knees, clutching at the burn throbbing through his skin as if he were just branded with fire. Tears stream freely down his face even as the pain ebbs. It takes minutes for it to fade enough for Jongin to pull himself off the ground. He stumbles forward one step at a time, wiping the wet trails from his face and hurrying home.

Jongin doesn't mention the unexplainable burn nor the aftereffects that leave him on edge to his parents. They have enough to worry about what with the talk of looters and bandits now attacking people on the road to town. Jongin allows his mother to fawn over him, his father to check him for injuries and then turns in for the evening at his own house nearer to the trees.

The mark is persistent. Jongin wakes in the middle of the night and slips out of his bed. There's a tugging in his gut, a force that pulls him on a path that leads back to the edge of the woods. Jongin stands at the break, his ankles tickled by blades of grass and body hidden in the shadows of the trees.

It's as if something is calling him back, wanting to drag him deep, deep into the dark and never let him go. His blood runs cold and his mark burns white hot and Jongin stumbles back, afraid.

 

Jongin pens a letter to Yixing in the morning, hoping the falcon he attached it to will be able to track where Yixing and Jongdae may be. He needs answers to questions he can't even formulate let alone put down on parchment. Every Dragontouched's story is different when it comes to finding their dragon, but this feels . . . wrong.

The mark pulses steadily now, unerring and so strongly that Jongin imagines the darker skin moves along his neck to the beat. He's determined to wait it out, hoping to receive word from Yixing.

The pull has other ideas.

Jongin is restless, his body full of too much energy with no outlet. He doesn't intend to leave the safety of the village, but three nights in a row without sleep because of his mark and he's ready to explode. It's either let this pull drive him insane minute by minute or stand up to it and discover what it is that's calling to him beneath the cover of the forest.

He slips out at night, a few extra arrows in his quiver and a third knife hidden in the sleeve of his shirt. There's something out there that terrifies him and he can't ignore it any longer. With his fear tucked securely in his pocket and his instincts warring with each other, Jongin steps over that line and into the forest.

Almost instantly, the burn clenches tight around his throat, fiery tendrils coiled into his skin to drag him forward. Jongin is no longer in control of himself as the burn takes him into parts of the forest that Jongin's never dared step foot. These are the places where Others have staked their claim - the evidence all too apparent in the piles of bones and circles of dead trees Jongin passes along the way. The stench that wafts through the air has Jongin's stomach heaving and insides churning.

He doesn't know how long he's dragged along, a helpless puppet to the strings tied tight to his limbs, but he gets a glimpse of daylight through a rare break in the tree cover and concludes that the sun rose hours ago. He's beyond exhausted, and if it's Death that lies in wait for him at the end of this journey, he hopes it comes quickly.

The pace is brutal. His feet are blistered, the pain cutting through the grogginess with each step, and his muscles burn from overuse. The signs of the Others are everywhere and Jongin's eyes stay open only for fear of running into one. Everyone is told horror stories of the Others, told about their vicious appetite for the one thing they don't possess - life. And having that siphoned out is a painful process that can take as long as the Other decides to drag it out.

Jongin doesn’t fancy being the meal for a creature that clawed its way out from the pits of dark magic deep underground. He could really use a little help right about now.

An anguished, beastly cry echoes in the distance and Jongin’s pain intensifies with it. He grits his teeth to keep from screaming out, the pain blinding him momentarily as he’s steadily forced toward whatever has made that horrific noise. An attempt to dig his heels into the ground only leaves deep grooves in the dirt behind him and Jongin has a sinking feeling that he’s about to stare Fate in the eyes.

Jongin’s heart thuds against his ribs, his stomach roiling even as he tries to breathe through it and calm himself. He’s a Dragontouched. He can do this even without a guardian at his side. This is what he was born to face.

There are tall trees all around, most of them dead and decaying from the effects of the Other that lingers in their shadows. Jongin is dragged into the center of a grove and the choking grip around his burning neck is released. He inhales jerkily, coughing and sputtering as he drops to his knees, exhausted and fighting to keep from collapsing. There’s an airy whine that filters into the air from the side and Jongin slowly turns his head, his limbs drenched in dread.

What he sees isn’t an Other.

Jongin watches as a dragon - a great beast with dingy mauve, blood-spattered scales and cloudy eyes - thrashes in the vines wrapped tightly around its hulking body. Jongin is struck breathless at the sight; this creature is bound around the snout and yet it uses all its strength to stretch the bindings enough to let out another call for help.

This call is what Jongin had heard and this is what Jongin was meant to find.

This is Jongin’s dragon.

He pulls himself to his feet, a resurgence of energy carrying him forward so he can free the dragon. The marks on his neck hum, a dull vibration that runs through his limbs as if they’re pleased.

The dragon’s eyes go wide, its thrashing wild and Jongin turns in time to see the Other lumbering into the clearing. The putrid stench is suffocating and Jongin stumbles back, landing on the ground with a sickening lurch of his stomach.

The Other is a grotesque giant of a creature with gnarled bone that's mostly covered in putrefying flesh that hangs loose off its misshapen form. It’s almost as if its limbs aren’t made to fit together, like pieces from different puzzles forced into slots and glued in place. It stomps forward, one arm dangling lower than the other and a bony fist raised to smash to the ground where Jongin lies.

He rolls just in time, fear leaving his mind blank and his training forgotten. Jongin is better than this. Jongin _has_ to be better than this.

He scrambles for the knife in his sleeve and instead of lunging blindly at the Other, he dodges a second attack - just barely - and lands neatly on his feet beside the head of the dragon. With his blade, Jongin saws frantically at the thick vines that keep the dragon’s jaw closed. The snap of one loosens the tension enough for the dragon to work the rest free himself.

Jongin feels the panic flitter up his throat as the dragon raises its head to deflect the blow that's about to knock Jongin out of the way. Razor sharp teeth tear into grey skin and rip holes that leave no blood behind. Jongin takes only a moment to regather his wits before rushing to the other vines to cut them loose.

The Other, enraged, swings wildly and the ground shakes with each hit that misses its mark. The hits that land, however, do so on the dragon’s already weak body. Jongin feels every jolt, every shudder of pain that races through the dragon and his blood boils. It’s on reflex that he nocks an arrow to his bow and lets it fly, the shaft twisting through the air only to be batted away without regard. Undeterred, Jongin aims his bow again, and this time the arrow lodges in the Other’s throat.

It roars, stumbling back as it clutches its neck and Jongin’s dragon is free to pounce on the injured Other and fasten its teeth over the head and yank. The Other’s head pops off with a gurgle and Jongin watches as it rolls across the ground after the dragon’s spit it out. His heart is still racing and he’s so jumpy that he may pass out, but Jongin holds himself together when he sees his dragon listing to the side.

The beast heaves an exhausted groan and lands heavily on the ground and Jongin rushes to its side. The dragon's scales, no matter how dirty they are at the moment, are still sharp. Its claws are menacing and Jongin is dwarfed by the sheer size. Jongin reaches out, the span of his palm not even the size of one scale, but the dragon seems to sense his presence.

Slowly, the beast begins to shrink down. Jongin watches as scales shimmer and fade to flesh, claws to fingers and wings to a flat expanse of milky skin over a curved back. In the place of a grand dragon now lies a man. His features are striking, awe-inspiring and Jongin is taken by the strands of mauve hair that fall into a dark pair of eyes and pink lips that part in a soft smile.

Jongin crouches down beside him, carefully fitting his arms underneath the man to lift his weight. As much as he’d like to rest, he needs to get them out of the forest before anything else decides to attack.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” comes a whisper and Jongin looks down to see the opaque purple that overlays the whites of the man’s eyes. He hates to think of how long the Other had been feeding off him.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”

“What’s your name?” he asks, curling toward Jongin’s chest when Jongin begins walking, holding his arm carefully. He’s injured and Jongin feels guilty for moving him, but they need to leave.

“Jongin.”

“Minseok.”

Jongin has a thousand more questions tickling the tip of his tongue, but Minseok is already asleep, his head tucked close to Jongin’s chest - his breathing regulating. Jongin does his best not to jostle him, afraid to wake Minseok from his well-needed rest.

 

Jongin doesn’t know how long it takes to weave his way through unfamiliar paths and back toward the safety of the village. He has to take several breaks along the way, stopping long enough to catch his breath and drink from water pooled in the larger leaves of trees before beginning his trek again. Minseok sleeps the entire time, even when Jongin has to place him on the ground to stretch the weary muscles in his shoulders and legs.

It’s dark when he finally stumbles from the clutches of the forest and into the moonlight. Jongin doesn’t stop moving until they’re inside his home, his side leaning against the walls for support. He’s careful when he lays Minseok on the bed, plucking one of his clean shirts out of a drawer and cautiously putting it on Minseok to cover his naked body. Satisfied, Jongin sheds his weaponry and boots and slides in beside him.

Together, curled atop a small bed fit for one, Jongin and Minseok sleep. For days.

 

Jongin cracks open his eyes and startles, rolling off the bed to land uncomfortably on the floor. His backside hurts and it feels as if every muscle in his body aches, and there’s a headache settled in his temples that pounds like hammers inside his skull. And still he manages to frown up at a laughing Yixing.

Jongin hazards a look at the slumbering figure still on the bed, his heart softening and the irritation ebbing when he sees Minseok’s peaceful face as he sleeps through Yixing’s now muffled laughter. His hair is sleep rumpled and there’s a web of red marks from where his face has been pushed against the sheets. He appears so innocent, so fragile and human and Jongin wants nothing more than to protect him.

Yixing seems to understand, resting a hand on Jongin’s shoulder before offering to help him off the floor. They leave the room - Jongin glancing over at Minseok to make sure he’s still undisturbed - and close the door behind them.

The house is small with just enough space for him to live comfortably; but with him, Yixing and Jongdae all crowded in his kitchen, it’s quite the tight fit. Jongdae keeps elbowing Jongin out of the way and Yixing eventually pulls Jongin to the table to sit as Jongdae goes back to shuffling through Jongin’s cabinets for suitable food - not that he’s going to find much as Jongin takes most of his meals over at his parents’ house.

“You did it.”

There’s a twinkle in Yixing’s eye and Jongin can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth. It’s been a long time coming and he finally feels at peace. He nods at his old friend, noticing the faint lines around Yixing’s eyes and the careful way he holds himself. There’s an edge to Yixing that wasn’t there before, but he’s been out there fighting while Jongin’s languished around waiting.

“Looks like you didn’t need my help after all.”

Yixing’s foot kicks at Jongin’s under the table and the smile slips from Jongin’s lips. “I still can’t explain it,” Jongin admits, running fingers through his badly tangled hair. A chunk of strands get caught and pull uncomfortably and he gives it up as a lost cause.

Yixing leans forward, interested. “What part? Your mark was supposed to lead you to him and it did.”

Jongin shakes his head. “It’s not that. It’s . . . it felt wrong, Yixing. It almost felt like it was trying to kill me and when I finally found him -” Jongin’s voice cuts out and he casts a glance at the closed door to his bedroom. “Yixing, he was being fed on by an Other. It had him tied down in the forest and I don’t know how long he’d been there before I got to him.”

Yixing lets out a long breath, sitting back in his chair and strumming his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “If he was being fed on, that could have been what you felt. The bond between a dragon and a Dragontouched is forged in magic that's tied to your life force. If an Other tapped into that, it’s possible it polluted your bond.”

"Have you heard of it happening before?" Jongin asks, keeping his voice low just in case Minseok wakes.

Yixing shakes his head. "No, but there's so much about us, about our bonds that we don't know." All Dragontouched know that once the bond is formed, the death of either the man or dragon will kill the other. That part goes unsaid, but it lingers in the air between them.

Jongin's teeth scrape at a patch of dry skin on his lip as he sits in thought, the sound of Jongdae's triumphant discovery of suitable food left unheard.

It's the thick aroma of bacon - pilfered from the hidden compartment at the bottom of Jongin's freezer - filling Jongin's home that seems to rouse Minseok. The door to the bedroom opens with a slight creak and all eyes turn to the slight figure clutching the knob tightly as if it's the only thing keeping him from bolting.

"Minseok," Jongin breathes, drawing attention to himself. Jongdae whistles low in the background and Yixing's foot taps against Jongin's calf. Jongin ignores them both.

He's drawn to Minseok, standing carefully and treading softly as he closes the distance between them. It's almost as if his vision is blurry, clearing with every step closer he is to Minseok and when he reaches out to touch him, he's gifted with a vivid clarity he'd thought unattainable. His fingers circle gently around Minseok's wrist and something shifts in Jongin's chest. Minseok blinks up at him and Jongin takes note of the purple that still mars his eyes and grimaces.

He should have been there.

Minseok still appears uneasy, pulling his arm back just enough to let Jongin know he wants to be released. It’s with a confused heart and a frown that Jongin lets go and allows Minseok to slink back toward the wall. He looks so vulnerable in Jongin’s shirt, the white fabric brushing down his thighs and the front strings untied along the top so it dips low. There are scars on Minseok, ones that Jongin hadn’t seen in the cover of the forest and he’s covered in dirt and dried blood.

Jongdae rescues Jongin by rushing over and Minseok stiffens, their bond pulsing with sudden fear until Jongdae’s eyes flash yellow. Minseok seems to relax in the presence of another dragon and it’s Jongdae who gets to lead Minseok to the kitchen where he picks out the fattest, longest pieces of bacon and presents them for a half-starved Minseok to wolf down.

Jongin stands alone by his bedroom door and watches as his heart plummets to his stomach and bathes in the acid that’s eating at his soul. 

Minseok is supposed to be with _him_.

 

Jongin isn’t the type to harbor a grudge. He considers them to be petty and too much effort when life offers so much more. But as he watches the way Minseok seems to bloom around Jongdae over the next few days - his mouth forming into a smile for the first time, his laughter echoing in Jongin’s ears as a sweet torment, his lean frame filling out and sallow skin taking on a healthier glow - Jongin contemplates begging Yixing to take Jongdae far away and leave them be.

“It’s comforting,” Yixing had said, petting softly through Jongin’s hair as Jongdae and Minseok lay in the grass behind Jongin’s small home, laughing and occasionally chasing the butterflies that flitted among the flowers. “Minseok has probably been away from his kind for a long time.”

Jongin feels like a petulant child, a five year old who's had his toy taken away from him, only much worse. The resentment is a hole punched in his chest, his ribs caved in and stabbing his heart so that he feels the sting with every breath. Minseok is supposed to trust him, to let Jongin take care of him, but so far, all Minseok seems to do is stare at Jongin from a safe distance with nothing on his face to betray his emotions.

Minseok spends his nights sleeping on Jongin’s bed while Jongin sleeps on the floor with a thin blanket under him and one over him. He wakes several times a night to Minseok’s thrashing, his fear so tangible it pulls Jongin from a deep slumber and Minseok never stills until Jongin crawls over the wood floor to hold his hand. In his sleep, Minseok clings to Jongin, but when he wakes, he runs for Jongdae.

There’s a chasm between them and Jongin doesn’t know how to bridge it.

 

Jongin peers at Minseok from across the sitting room. He and Jongdae are playing some silly game that involves slapping hands and Jongin doesn’t get it, but he does relish the moments when Minseok breaks out into delighted laughter. Minseok appears to be winning - if Jongdae’s pouting is any indication - but the tables turn during the next round. A loud slap to the top of Minseok’s hand has him pulling back with a snarl. Jongin is nearly on his feet to pull Minseok away and make sure he’s alright when Yixing holds out an arm to stop him.

Jongin frowns, but he’s intrigued by the tail Minseok’s grown that’s now swishing dangerously over the threadbare purple rug his mother had made for him when he’d first moved in. The scales are shinier than Jongin remembers, but Minseok’s had nearly a week to recover and he’s looking better everyday.

The only thing that’s not disappearing is the purple over Minseok’s eyes and none of them have an answer for that.

 

Jongin announces that he’s going hunting. He says it’s for his parents, but mostly it’s for his own sake. He needs a dash of normalcy in his life before he loses the fragile hold he has on his emotions completely. Yixing decides to come along with Jongin’s spare bow strapped to his back, and Jongdae and Minseok left to their own devices. Even after everything that's happened in this forest, Jongin still thinks of it as a second home. His eyes stray toward the depths where he'd been dragged to find Minseok, but his feet stay on the trails he's run for years.

Yixing is blissfully quiet, allowing Jongin to lead the way into the trees. He doesn’t plan on making this a long trip - just a few squirrels or rabbits will suffice. Jongin doesn’t want to leave Minseok overnight.

Jongin feels the pull in the bond the further he walks and when he glances over at Yixing, he can tell he feels it too. "Does it ever get better?" Jongin muses aloud.

Yixing gives him a soft, almost sincere smile of indulgence. "Worse," he answers. "But it gets easier to bear." Jongin sighs and Yixing knocks their shoulders together. "It's worth it in the end."

And Jongin trusts Yixing, so he chews on his words in silence, letting them roll around in his skull as a small comfort. 

A distracted Jongin is a poor hunter, but Yixing manages to bring in two hares and three squirrels before they set back. Jongin wants to reach the village before the sun sets, already antsy at the distance between him and Minseok. He's jittery, out of sorts and even Yixing is hastening their pace with Jongin on his heels.

Jongdae nearly barrels Yixing over the moment they step out and Jongin watches fondly for a moment before he notices that Minseok is edging forward. Minseok doesn’t hug him, but he tips forward and leans his weight against Jongin’s chest, breathing out a heavy, content sigh. Jongin stands perfectly still, afraid to even move. After a minute, Minseok wanders off and Jongin watches as he disappears down the path to the house, a pair of pointed dragon ears the same shade of his hair poking through the strands.

“He’s been high-strung since you left,” Jongdae explains to Jongin with a knowing grin. There is grass in Jongdae’s hair and Jongin glances over at Yixing who has been abandoned on the ground by himself.

“That’s alright,” Yixing grumbles as he picks himself up. “It’s not like you just cracked my tailbone.”

Jongdae continues to ignore Yixing in favor of pulling Jongin along with an excited bounce in his step. “Keep up the good work,” Jongdae exclaims just before patting Jongin on the butt and leaving him on the doorstep.

Jongin turns to give Yixing a confused look, but all he gets in return is an amused shrug.

 

That night, Jongin doesn’t wake up because of Minseok’s nightmares, but because Minseok has crawled down on the floor with him. His head is tucked under Jongin’s chin and his hands are fisted in the front of Jongin’s shirt to bring him closer. Jongin moves just enough to drape the blanket over Minseok before wrapping his arm around him and falling asleep.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in a long time.

 

Minseok still hovers around Jongdae, but he’s far less skittish around Jongin now. Jongin takes to this new relationship improvement with gusto, carefully feeling out the best opportunities to move closer to Minseok or add in a quip during a conversation. With each tentative gesture, Jongin feels their bond grow stronger and his chest grows warm and Minseok will stop whatever he's doing for a moment as if to savor it before beginning again.

There are, however, times when Jongin knows to stay away. He learns quickly that when Minseok is spooked or annoyed or unhappy, he loses a little control over his human form. Sometimes he’ll storm out of the house with a large tail whacking against the doorframe along the way or he’ll try to hide behind the couch with only his pointed dragon ears poking up to give him away.

It’s the most adorable thing when Minseok realizes his dragon ears have presented, and gets so flustered over it that he can’t calm down enough to make them go away. Jongin doesn’t ever admit that aloud, though. He doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of Minseok’s wrath. (But Jongdae doesn’t seem to mind.)

The few times Minseok speaks, it’s like honey dripping down Jongin’s throat to coat his insides, and he’s immediately drawn to it like a moth to a flame. And it’s as if Minseok can sense Jongin nearing him even when his back is turned towards him. He’ll reach out, his small fingers stretched outward until Jongin threads his own between them and allows Minseok to squeeze before dropping his grip.

Minseok makes it a habit to sneak down to where Jongin is sleeping on the floor during the night until Jongin decides it’s easier - and better on both their backs - to wait until Minseok is already asleep and crawl into the bed with him. Or at least that’s what Jongin thinks, but when he looks over one night, he sees Minseok staring up at him expectantly. Jongin’s heart flutters.

 

It’s subtle at first, something Jongin puts down to his imagination and wishful thinking. He’s watching Minseok who is sitting in the corner of the couch, nose pressed close to one of the few books Jongin owns. The only interest Jongin's ever cultivated in the written word has been to read works about the Dragontouched. He’d read every book he could find from cover to cover in search of answers, and had come up empty-handed each time. Minseok has since dusted off the spines and begun his own journey through the texts. Jongin doesn’t even know if Minseok can read, but he spends hours studying the texts.

Minseok blinks and looks up at Jongin who, inadvertently, had begun leaning closer. He’s so used to seeing that sickly purple clinging to Minseok’s eyes as a constant reminder of his torment that he gasps when it’s obvious that the purple has receded some.

At first he wonders if it’s a trick of the light. Jongin scoots closer to Minseok, peering curiously at a pair of eyes that are widening, watching his every move. It’s with careful, cautious intent that Jongin raises a hand and places it on Minseok’s cheek, tilting his head into the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Minseok’s eyebrows furrow and he blinks furiously in the light and Jongin lets him go.

“Your eyes,” Jongin explains. “They’re clearing up.”

Minseok lets out a soft gasp of his own before scrambling off the couch and down toward the bathroom. There’s a small looking glass Jongin has hung over the water basin that he uses when he shaves and Jongin finds Minseok peering into it in disbelief. Only a moment later, Minseok is launching himself into Jongin’s arms and they stumble back, Jongin holding him up and squeezing tight.

“Are we interrupting?” comes the mischievous tone of Jongdae’s voice and normally such a thing would have Minseok pulling away, but this time, he doesn’t.

Jongin glances over at the two heads peering around the corner. “Yes.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok whispers later that evening when they’re both snug in bed. Minseok’s face is buried in Jongin’s chest and his voice is muffled, but Jongin hears him loud and clear.

“For what?” Jongin rumbles, shifting to drag Minseok’s leg between his own.

“I was out there for so long,” Minseok begins, trembling at the memory and Jongin runs his palm up and down Minseok’s spine to calm him. “That - that _thing_ took so much from me that I never thought I’d be good enough.”

Jongin stops breathing, stops moving. “Not good enough for what?”

Minseok’s voice is pitifully soft and broken. “You.” Small fingers clutch at Jongin’s shirt and Minseok tips his head up to stare at Jongin in the darkness. “How could I be the guardian you need when half of me has been taken?”

Jongin rolls his weight to the side, nearly pinning Minseok beneath him. “But that’s what I’m here for,” he says, a finger trailing down Minseok’s cheek and to his jaw. Minseok grabs his hand, fingers slipping through to hold tight. “We’re supposed to complete each other.”

With a small whine, Minseok surges up to press his lips firmly to the side of Jongin’s mouth, breathing out a _thank you_ after. Jongin catches Minseok before he can move away and kisses him properly. Minseok yields easily, falling back and bringing Jongin with him, arms wound around Jongin’s neck.

There’s a twisting pressure in Jongin’s chest that releases, a flood of relief settling in his bones as he realizes that Minseok isn’t going anywhere. Minseok is here. Minseok is real. And Minseok is kissing him like Jongin is his only source of oxygen.

The bond between a Dragontouched and Guardian isn’t always romantic, but it’s more common to cross that line than not considering their souls are tied together. It’s easy to map over Minseok’s skin with his hands and then his mouth; it’s natural to feel Minseok’s breath on his face, his legs entwined around Jongin’s waist. Being with Minseok brings a sense of peace to Jongin that he’s never felt before.

 

Jongdae and Yixing are already eating breakfast when Jongin and Minseok finally stagger out of bed. A low whistle from Jongdae has everyone staring at the marks exposed on Minseok’s chest that aren’t hidden by Jongin’s shirt. A sliver of pride crawls up Jongin’s spine even as he helps Minseok tie up the strings to hide them a little better.

“Did you know you have thin walls?” Yixing asks casually, as if he were inquiring about the weather. A flourishing, intense pink invades Minseok’s cheeks and Jongin just grins before helping himself to the food on the table.

Yixing waits until everyone is finished before breaking the news that he and Jongdae are leaving. Minseok looks a little panicked for a moment, the heavy thud of his dragon tail hitting the floor only moments before he’s reaching out for Jongdae’s arm.

“The Others have been growing bold at the Eastern border,” Yixing admits with a sigh. “I’ve been receiving news of the attacks and we can’t put off leaving any longer. I’m sorry.”

Jongin understands. Yixing did him a great service by coming here and he was in no way obligated to stay, but he did anyway. Their kind are always on the move not because they’re restless, but because there’s always a threat that needs to be vanquished, and this is what drives the Dragontouched, what gives them purpose. Jongin hadn’t even thought that he was taking Yixing and Jongdae off the battlefield and now he feels doubly thankful.

“You’ve done a lot for us,” Jongin tells Yixing, arms around his old friend. It’s overcast outside, and the wind is picking up speed, and the air is heavy with signs of the upcoming storm. “I hope to repay the favor one day.” 

Off to the side, Jongdae is speaking to Minseok in hushed tones, and Minseok seems calmer than Jongin had anticipated. When they’re finished, Jongin finds himself enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from Jongdae. “You take care of him,” Jongdae grunts in Jongin’s ear. Jongin assures him that he will and he thinks he spies tears gathering in the corners of Jongdae’s eyes before he turns and darts over to Yixing.

There isn’t space for Jongdae to change forms in the village so the two leave hand-in-hand and Minseok stands, rooted in front of the house and motionless until Jongdae and Yixing do a fly-by. Jongin tugs him back inside, his heart filled with the hope that he won’t screw this up on his own.

 

The absence of two additional bodies leaves Jongin’s small home feeling empty and quiet now that Jongin has elbow room at the table and doesn’t have to fight to use his kitchen or bathroom. Minseok isn’t loud, preferring to speak with actions over words.

He’s also headstrong which Jongin learns when Minseok peers up at him earnestly and informs him that they need to start training so they can help. Jongin agrees although he’s worried that Minseok may be moving too fast. There’s still traces of purple in his eyes, although more of it fades with each passing day. Soon there won’t be any left at all.

Jongin had been taught by the top warriors in the village - and by a few of the people passing through - how to fight when he was very young. He hasn’t actively gone through the motions in a long time, but the muscle memory carries him through the training sessions. He’s also pleasantly surprised that Minseok is a spry fighter himself. The first time they spar, Minseok has Jongin on his back with only a few well-placed punches and a sweep of his leg.

But Jongin is a fast learner.

They spend their days outside no matter the weather, drawing the attention of the villagers now that word has gotten out that their own Dragontouched has finally found his dragon. (Jongin knew telling his mother was going to lead to the news spreading, but he wasn’t expecting this amount of attention.) Despite the growing audience of spectators, Minseok and Jongin move in graceful unison until the sun sets and Jongin’s mother appears with a basket of hot food, clucking her tongue and demanding they get inside and wash up.

Their nights are spent unwinding, Minseok’s head on Jongin’s chest and Jongin’s fingers scratching lightly through Minseok’s hair. Sometimes they let the silence draw them in and other times Jongin finds himself captivated by Minseok’s stories of his childhood and life growing up in the caves to the South. Jongin remembers flying near the caves once when he’d first set out with Yixing and Jongdae, but when Jongin mentions it, Minseok says he’d already left to search out his own path.

Jongin doesn’t ask about the Other who took Minseok and Minseok skirts the topic, his hold on Jongin tightening when something hits too close. This is when Jongin kisses Minseok’s worries away and all conversation is lost for the evening.

 

“But you said you rode on Jongdae’s back before,” Minseok chides, rubbing Jongin’s back comfortingly. Jongin is bent in half, hands on his knees and head hanging low.

“I had Yixing to hold on to and _that was ten years ago_ ,” Jongin complains, grumbling when he hears Minseok’s following laughter.

Jongin had been hoping for a less bumpy first flight, but the vertigo had hit fast and he’d nearly thrown up on Minseok’s scales before they even hit the clouds. It’s been over a month since Yixing and Jongdae left, since they began training, and they’d both decided it was time for flying lessons. Perhaps Jongin shouldn’t have boasted about his experience after all.

“You’re getting old,” Minseok teases, crouching down beside Jongin with a smile.

Jongin uses the opportunity to push Minseok onto the ground and crawl over him, kissing the mischievous grin off his mouth. “I’ve still got some fight in me.”

“Alright loverboy,” Minseok answers. “Let’s go again.”

Jongin finds himself in the grass with Minseok darting off, his dainty features disappearing the more dragon he becomes. It will never cease to amaze Jongin how large Minseok is as he admires the vast span of his wings and how tall he stands - nearly as high as the oldest trees surrounding the village.

Mounting Minseok isn’t much of a problem; his scales are thick enough for Jongin to find purchase on the edges and lever him up as Minseok sinks as low to the ground as he can. The iridescent mauve scales gleam in the sunlight and Jongin squints even as he settles himself at the base of Minseok’s neck. His legs lock and he bends forward to hold to the nearest scale. He knows he’ll learn to ride Minseok without needing to use his arms one day, but it’s not today.

Minseok’s claws dig into the ground, leaving behind matching gouges in the dirt when he pushes off hard enough to get airborne. Jongin squeezes his eyes shut and hopes for the best as Minseok soars through the air. The lurch in his stomach isn’t a good sign, but he swallows it down, daring to crack open an eye and glance at the ground. They’re _really_ high up and Jongin sucks in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly through his teeth.

It calms him and he straightens slowly, the wind rushing in his ears and the thrill of flying high in the sky breaking through the initial fear. Jongin pushes his weight up, fighting against the wind until he’s sitting upright. Minseok twists his neck around to look at him, before gracefully ascending into the clouds.

As soon as Jongin can get used to the height and the way Minseok undulates and moves beneath him, he’ll have to relearn how to ride Minseok confidently with his weapons strapped on to work on his maneuverability, but this - this is a start.

 

“Hey, Jongin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Jongin looks up from the letter in his hands to find Minseok standing in the doorway to their room, dressed in one of Jongin’s shirts because they’d never bothered to get Minseok his own clothing. It’s been months and Minseok has never asked for any, content to pick through what Jongin owns. The sight makes Jongin’s heart lodge in his throat. “What for?”

Minseok just smiles, walking over and standing on his toes to leave a tender kiss on Jongin’s lips. Jongin swallows and tries to put his heart back where it belongs ... and falls a little more in love.

 

There’s a ruckus in the village, the people too afraid to go into the square and Jongin shoulders his way through with Minseok in tow. The great form of a silver dragon is still shrinking down, leaving behind the flattened remnants of several merchant stands and carriages, hence the commotion.

No one dares move toward the silver-haired man - who is now pulling on a robe he'd found on the ground - or his companion. A lanky man covered in black leather stands tall beside his dragon, his eyes searching the crowd with purpose. He can’t be older than Jongin, but he’s clearly seen battle. There’s a scar that winds dangerously around his left eye and his neck bears the signs of recent fighting.

Jongin and Minseok step into the wide circle and the visitors orient on them immediately.

“You Jongin?” the man asks.

“I am.”

“I’m Sehun,” he introduces, “and this is Luhan.” He gestures to the dragon who is now busy staring into a piece of broken glass to fix his hair. “We were sent to bring you to the Eastern front. Yixing and Jongdae need help from all the Dragontouched.”

Minseok squeezes Jongin’s hand and he responds by holding his hand tighter. “Come,” Jongin instructs. “You two can freshen up and eat something while we get ready.”

Jongin leads Sehun and Luhan through the parting crowd and toward his home, Minseok tucked against his side protectively. It’s been three months since they last heard from Yixing and almost five months since Yixing and Jongdae had left to go fight. Jongin and Minseok have had time to train, to learn to work and move together, but their combat skills never been tested in battle.

Jongin’s afraid.

He watches as Sehun and Luhan gratefully wash the dirt from their skin and devour the leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner; he sees how they move instinctively around one another and steal lingering touches that hold more meaning than any spoken word. They remind him of the world - of the unending war - out there that they’ve all been fighting.

There isn’t much to pack - Jongin’s hunting pack is always ready by the door with his bow and knives stored safely away - and it’s not long before he’s bidding farewell to his home and his life. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back, but he has Minseok at his side and he’s finally setting off on the adventure he’d always wanted.

Their future is unpredictable and the battle ahead will test them, but as Jongin holds tight to Minseok when they fly high into the sky, he couldn’t feel more at home. This is where they belong.


End file.
